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Chapter 13 - Dr. B (G
GB hurriedly tumbled around the shop in search of a telephone. The best he could find was a dusty rotary dial, and he used one of his remaining functional limbs to twist out the number listed on the flier he had been so excited to see. Time had stuck the phone to its pedestal, so the blooper was forced to lay his head down on the counter next to it. He knew that, if his plan worked, he would soon have the help of the legendary medical professional, Dr. Mario. With his prosperity, however, he had no such luck. “Dr. Mario? Oh no, he hasn’t worked here in ages,” said the receptionist who picked up GB’s eager call. “If you want, however, we could set up an appointment for you with another one of our fine physicians. What seems to be the problem?” “I’m a blooper, and I’ve recently lost one of my tentacles.” “Uh oh! I’m actually a blooper myself, and I once found myself in a situation similar to yours. Let me see what I can do…” A minute later, her voice returned. “Alright! I think I can set you up with Dr. B. He specializes in dismemberment! That’s what his plaque says, anyways. I haven’t actually seen him work before--nobody has, really--but we’ve never received a single complaint from any of his patients! Now that I think about it, actually, we’ve never heard anything at all from his patients. I suppose that’s how you can be sure that he’s really good at what he does!” The clueless blooper nodded his head in anticipation, and the receptionist asked when he would like to schedule a meeting with him. “Well, this life shroom isn’t doing much to numb the intense pain I feel anymore, and I’m probably on the verge of death.” The woman gasped and began yelling to someone in her office, ignoring GB’s suggestion for Tuesday. “Quickly, sir! You must tell us your location immediately!” “Location? The Glitz Pit, but how is that going to he-” All of a sudden, GB was interrupted by a mind-numbingly loud noise from outside. He opened the door to the shop just in time to witness a figure in a trench coat and daredevil helmet shoot through the sky and crash into the hot dog stand. Panicked, the blooper limped outside and attempted to take hold of the man. To his shock, he rolled over on his own, seemingly in perfect condition. “Don’t worry about me, kid. Ever since our office decided that the use of pipe cannons was the most efficient way to reach those in dire need of assistance quickly, I’ve had to do this plenty of times. At this point, it’s just another part of the job.” He stood up, a towering figure over GB’s crippled body, and brushed off his shoulders. Sticking out his hand, he continued, “The name’s Boshi, but most people call me Dr. B.” “Thanks, Dr. B, but I think it’s really important that we get right down to business,” GB implored, gritting his teeth in an attempt to lessen the pain he felt. “I suppose you’re right. First, however, it’s important that we find a private place for me to work.” Dr. B looked over both of his shoulders in a way that GB considered entirely unsuspicious. “Do you have any place like that around here?” GB went over his options. Xavier’s hideout and been quarantined since he held Parin captive there, so that was out of the question. The storage room was usually empty, but nobody had access to it but Chubba and Yoshi. The juice shop had been rather slow in terms of visitors, but Tubba had been in there quite often as he considered it to be the ideal spot to write his fanfictions. That’s when he had an idea. “I’ve got it! We can just use one of the minor league rooms!” Dr. B gave the blooper a puzzled stare. “Nobody ever goes in those, as they have no need to do so. Not that anybody would want to anyways, because they’re in horrible condition.” “Alright, we’ll use a minor league room, then. One problem, though.” Dr. B scratched the back of his neck and avoided eye contact with GB. “I’m, uh… a bit of a celebrity. Yeah, people love me! We’ve got to take care of your problem fast, but there’s no way we’d be able to do that with your friends swarming me for autographs! Do you know of any way you can get me in undetected?” GB scanned Dr. B for a few seconds before he had an idea. “Okay, I’ve got a plan. I hope you have a little extra room in that trench coat of your’s!” Scully and Snoozer were walking down the hallway when they noticed something odd. A large figure wearing a coat, with GB’s head poking out of the top, was wobbling down the corridor. It wasn’t until he had turned the corner that they found any words. “Does something seem a little off about GB to you?” asked Scully. “The depression from getting the boot from the boo sisters must be getting to him, and overeating is his only way to cope with the harsh reality that he’s nothing but a failure,” Broozer concluded. Hearing this, as well as Scully’s agreeing sentiment, filled GB with a sense of victory. He could hardly keep himself from laughing at their stupidity, which he would later learn was quite ironic in his current situation. When they reached the door to the red minor league room, GB informed Dr. B, whose head he was perched upon. They went inside, and GB jumped off of his physician. He immediately regretted this decision after doing a faceplant into the ground from over five feet in the air. Wiping away inky tears, he looked up to see Dr. B pushing file cabinets and lockers in front of the door. “Wow, you sure are secretive with your business practices, huh?” GB said. Dr. B, who was still busy barricading the only exit and entrance, said nothing. Slightly annoyed, the blooper spoke up again, saying, “I mean, I understand that you want some privacy, but is all of this really necessary?” This time, the doctor responded. “Trust me, kid.” Dr. B turned around to face the squid, a deranged grin spread across his face. He opened one side of his trench coat, and GB gasped. “It is.”